


Blue-Eyed Monster

by coprolite_blend



Series: Sleep of Reason Series [2]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Bones will burst a vein, Can't stop the drama and angst, Gen, Kid Fic, Spock has a headache
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-27
Updated: 2011-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-26 14:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coprolite_blend/pseuds/coprolite_blend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 2 of <i>Sleep of Reason</i> Series.</p><p>The almost two-year old Captain still wouldn’t let anyone take care of him other than his Vulcan First Officer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue-Eyed Monster

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** Baby Feeding

* * *

  
The palace halls are indeed a wondrous sight. It is cool and dimly lit, giving him a sense of being underwater. Of course the large aquarium in front of him only heightens the sensation, as it serves as walls of this specific hallway. The large tank stretches nineteen-point-zero-six meters and is fifteen-point-nine meters high - or in the least, that’s how much Spock estimates it. There is difficulty in measuring its exact height since he hasn’t seen the top rim of the tank. It is filled with marine organisms, much similar to Terra’s _Chrysaora fuscescens_ , randomly floating within the water. These creatures, however, emits yellow-greenish bioluminescence, possibly a result of symbiosis with unknown bacteria.

“Spock,” a smooth voice calls in a perfect Vulcan pronunciation. He turns to her, accepting the soft kiss of her lips on both his cheeks and forehead. It is a form of greeting Jugglers give to those they consider in close relationship with them. “It is pleasing to see you.”

“As you are, Lady Liadlaw,” Spock says, noting her appearance that hasn’t change since he had first met her. She wears an electric-white robe, hiding most of her bluish skin, a similarly-colored band on her head as her silver hair cascades freely on her back. Her eyes remain a fascination to him, as its pupils are black with a thin gold ring around it, making it appear similar to a total solar eclipse.

She smiles with her darkened lips. “How are you faring?”

“I am in an optimal condition.” He then goes straight to the point. “I trust that the contract is prepared to be signed?”

“Come,” she gestures, taking one of his gloved-hand. They walk through the halls, Spock observing the marbled-like statues they pass by.

Despite meeting her prior to this mission, Spock doesn’t know much of Vaita’s culture, same as the rest of the known universe. It is not that they are secretive with their practices and traditions, it is simply because they do not forcefully flaunt it to any of their visitors or guests. The same can be said to their abilities to accumulate memories and thoughts into their own minds.

The _Mekh’iem_ are not telepathic beings, instead they have neuroreceptors in their palms that acts akin to a Vulcan mind-link, instantly sending thoughts and random memories into their brains. In turn, they can also send their own thoughts to those who they have touched, but they cannot speak into one’s mind. They can, however, create a state of illusion imagery.

But perhaps the most disconcerting fact about the Jugglers is their ability to manipulate a being’s time in the physical reality, which resulted to the Captain’s present condition.

They arrive in a fully furnished room, with red carpets on the floor, tables and divans, and glassed ornaments. Again, there is a large aquarium facing the neat lounge. The blue lights that flood the accommodation are strangely calming.

The Lady Liadlaw motions on the coralline-stoned divan, wherein Spock sits as she does the same. “Now,” she says, removing her hand from his and taking the compad from the short table in front of them. “This is the revised contract between _Mekh’iem_ and the Federation. I trust you have reviewed your own copy of it.”

“Yes,” Spock says, glancing on the device she places between them. “I must confess, the change of the trade duration is unexpected.”

She smiles as though she knows Spock only told her a half-truth statement. “The reactions I’ve received from your crew were quite animated. However, I am not remorseful of my actions towards Captain Kirk. He has such several unpleasant memories.”

Of course he’s heard rumours about the Captain’s past. “My officers have reported the events surrounding the Captain’s transformation. I wish for you to tell me your side of the occurrence.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if I just show you?” she asks, blinking vertically.

Indeed it would, yet he cannot allow such invasion. “You are aware that my race values privacy, and we are not capable of blocking your innate abilities.”

“Oh,” she says before inclining her head and closing her eyes. When she opens them again, she regards Spock. “My apologies. Although our species can amass memories and thoughts, we cannot always remember what we’ve stored. Still, we are able to access it at any given time.”

“I understand. Your narrative, Lady Liadlaw,” he prompts.

She looks at the aquarium. “We were talking about his - what did he call it? - ah, escapades when he was in the Starfleet Academy. Then I asked about several things that led Captain Kirk to mention that if he’s ever given a chance for a second childhood, then he’ll take it. I told him that I might have a way to grant his desire. He had laughed and said for me to do it.” The Lady Liadlaw’s gaze moves to Spock’s. “And I did.”

“I believe the Captain has doubted you,” says Spock, familiar with Jim’s code of speech. “Thus, he had wanted you to prove it.”

“Perhaps,” she remarks quietly. “But to meet his challenge is not my reason. Captain Kirk, he’s an honorable man.”

“Indeed,” agrees Spock. “However, I request that you restore the Captain to his previous state, Lady Liadlaw. The ship needs its captain. We cannot venture further with him at his current condition.”

She tips her head backwards and clicks her tongue. “I refuse, Spock.” The Vulcan waits for her explanation, to which she provides. “Captain Kirk truly needs to experience a second childhood. He much desires it. Do not be too concern, no harm will come to him as he ages. His growth will be as though it is a natural occurrence.”

“How is it that your species have the ability to manipulate a being’s time?”

“Not all of us,” she says. “It is perhaps caused by our evolution. You are aware that we, ourselves, know not of our origin, correct? It has only been recent that this ability has manifested in myself. I cannot elucidate more for even I do not comprehend it. ”

“I understand,” begins Spock, “that part of the contract states that no other sentient being, even Starfleet headquarters and members of the United Federation of Planets, is to have this knowledge. That is your reason behind the extension of the trade duration for seventy-five Terran years.”

“We are wary,” explains the Lady Liadlaw. “Vaita’s defenses are mediocre at best. We cannot allow this knowledge to fall to those who might enslave us. If a _Mekh’iem_ is captured, apoptosis is our only option.”

“Tha-” His communicator cuts him off. “Excuse me,” he abruptly says, standing and moving to the corner as he flips the communicator open. “This is Spock.”

“Get back up here, you damn elf!” comes Doctor McCoy’s urgent tone.

There is a mixture of noise in the background that is thunderous in the silence of the room he’s in. “I am currently-”

“I don’t care!” McCoy yells. “Jim’s been crying for the last fifteen minutes and if this keeps up, he’s damn going to damage his tiny larynx!”

“I am on my way,” Spock hurriedly says and flicks his communicator down. He turns to the Lady Liadlaw, who is now standing in front of him. “I must return to the _Enterprise_ immediately.”

“Here.”

Grateful for her consideration, Spock takes the stylus, signing his name below the Juggler’s signature on the compad before handing it back to her. “I will send Lieutenant Uhura to retrieve a copy of the contract.”

The Lady Liadlaw smiles. “We must speak more. Bring Captain Kirk in your next visit.”

They still have much to talk about. Spock shakes his head from side-to-side to show that he agrees as he opens his communicator. “ _Enterprise_ , one to beam up.”

* * *

  
“Jesus-Mary-Joseph! Finally!” exclaims Doctor McCoy, who is rocking a crying Jim in his arms, the moment Spock steps within their viewing range. “Take this blue-eyed monster.” He transfers the infant to him, and Jim gradually quiets down.

Spock wisely doesn’t say anything as he takes the towel from McCoy’s outstretched hand, and gently wipes the tears and mucus off of Jim’s face. Jim then moves his tiny arms around Spock’s neck - or tries to, the back of his head resting against the crook, sniffling.

He’s only been gone for two hours and forty-three minutes and this happens. It’s not that the doctor is incompetent - the man has a daughter after all, it is just due to Jim being a demanding infant (of Spock’s presence).

“I don’t get it,” McCoy remarks, strangely composed, as he watches them, arms folded on his chest.

The Vulcan has one palm on Jim’s head, supporting. “Doctor?”

He gestures his hand up and down to Spock. “This. Him. You.” McCoy sits on the chair and crosses one leg over the other. “He was pretty much calm when he woke up, even when I ran some tests on him. He was laughing at Chapel’s cooing too. But then he started crying when she changed his diaper and clothes. He only stopped because he fell asleep. Probably got tired after all those tests and screaming.”

If that is so, then, “Why was the Captain-”

“Because he woke up again,” the doctor supplies, irritation showing on his face. “I figured he’s hungry, but then he wouldn’t even let me feed him. I even gave him a rattler for distraction. It didn’t work. Joanna wasn’t as difficult as this, believe me.”

Jim moves within his hold, imitating a climb, and Spock suddenly gasps, surprise as a shudder runs down his spine. “Doctor,” he says, imperceptibly swallowing. “I believe the Captain is in need of sustenance at this moment.”

McCoy raises his eyebrow at him. “You can tell that with your hoodoo?” he asks in a genuine, curious tone.

“Negative,” Spock answers, stiff as a rod. “He is gnawing my ear.”

Three times, the doctor blinks before he reacts accordingly: he loudly snorts, one loosely closed hand over his mouth, cheeks puffed; his shoulders shakes; then he roars out his laughter.

The Vulcan narrows his eyes; it is not amusing. McCoy continues with his mirth, head thrown back. He allows the doctor to finish, but every time McCoy’s laughter subsides, it begins again. And Jim is still trying to consume his pinnacle with his newly-sprouted teeth. “If that will be all, Doctor, the Captain and I shall be in the mess hall.”

He’s just turned when McCoy calls him. “Wait, wait,” the doctor says between sniggers. Spock patiently glances back at him, arranging Jim in his arms to prevent the infant from biting him more as the doctor walks towards him. “Hold your horses there, Hobglobin.” McCoy shows him a PADD with a big grin. “Here’s the-” he chuckles, “complete list of his allergies.”

Spock reaches for the device but the doctor swings it away. “Doctor, it is necessary that I become familiar with the Captain’s hypersensitivity to victuals.”

“Sure,” McCoy mocks, waving the PADD to his face. “But I’m going with you.”

“Unnecessary.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world!”

* * *

  
The Vulcan is especially aware of the odd glances the crew is sending to his direction, and as per usual, he ignores it. He’s experienced a similar reaction from them the first occasion he and the Captain has shared a table in the mess hall, and eleven more times after that before the crew have become accustomed to it. Now, the crew just has to get used to their present situation. Perhaps he should have just taken the Captain to his quarters for this.

Opposite of him sits Doctor McCoy, who is not even hiding his amusement as he chews his meal.

Jim, on the other hand, is on his lap, eating. Or at least, he was.

The still one-year old Captain has well-developed motor skills at this age and he has been eating by himself, until he’s lost interest and started playing with the food after one bite. There are smudges of mashed banana around his tiny mouth, all over his hands, on his bib and on Spock’s uniform.

“Po!” tiny Jim laughs, extending his arms towards Spock, opening and closing his hands. “Fu! Fu!”

Spock silently stares at him, firmly holding Jim’s small hips to prevent him from accidentally falling over.

“You should eat,” McCoy smirks. “He’s offering you to.”

From Jim’s hands? Absolutely not, Spock thinks with an internal grimace. “And how have you discern this, Doctor?”

“Because he’s saying ‘fu’ to you, Spock,” Lieutenant Uhura answers as she settles beside him. “It’s easy to understand that what he means is ‘food’.”

Spock glances at her. “Do you have the contract, Lieutenant?”

“Yes. I’ve sent it to your terminal in your quarters,” she says and starts to eat. “By the way, the Lady Liadlaw wants to see you again tomorrow, at zero-eight-hundred, ship’s time. They’re inviting all the crew of the _Enterprise_ for another banquet. Some sort of a farewell party.”

The Vulcan nods.

Nyota is looking at him with questions in her eyes. “She also mentioned that you’ve met in Risa fourteen years ago, that she _knows_ you before their species joined the Federation. Want to tell me about that?”

Something in her tone indicates she dislikes that fact. Spock merely lifts an eyebrow, which earns him a mild glare from Nyota.

“Wait,” Doctor McCoy interjects, a palm in mid-air. “You’ve met the Juggler before? In Risa of all places?” He then grins. “You sly dog!”

Risa has been called ‘the pleasure planet’ throughout the known universe; Spock knows exactly what the doctor is implying. “It is of no import, Doctor, Nyota,” Spock simply says.

“Oh it is of import, Spock,” counters Nyota, serious. “How about telling us what _exactly_ is your relationship with her?”

Fortunately, Spock is spared to answer.

“There’s the bairn!” exclaims Lieutenant-Commander Scott by the entrance. He bounces to their table and drops beside the doctor, bumping their shoulders as the Chief Engineer balances himself in the seat; Doctor McCoy glowers at him. “Bonnie lad, isn’t he?”

“I suppose he’s cute,” agrees Nyota reluctantly, peeking at the child before looking back at Spock.

Scott attempts to touch the Captain’s cheek over the table, but the doctor grabs his arm. “Don’t. If he starts crying again, I _swear_ to God I’m gonna sedate you. My ears are still ringing from all the screaming he did back in Sickbay.”

The engineer reluctantly withdraws with a frown.

“He’s still not used to being touch by others?” Nyota asks in wonder.

The doctor shakes his head. “Nope, only if he doesn’t know about it. And don’t ask me why Jim chose the hobglobin here. For the last nine months, Jim does nothing but complain about him having a stick up his ass.”

“Language, Doctor,” Nyota chides, to which McCoy just grumbles.

“Po! Fuu~u!” Jim says again.

Spock looks down at his Captain, who is blissfully smiling up at him. He was not aware that the Captain shares his discontent with him to the doctor. Although it is understandable since McCoy and Jim are what humans call ‘friends’. He and the Captain do have disagreements often, but it is still distressing to hear it coming from the doctor.

Spock takes the bib and wipes the child’s mouth clean. Taking the clean towel from his shoulder, he removes the mess on Jim’s tiny hands. The Captain then begins to crawl on Spock’s torso, standing on his wobbly legs with a laugh; Spock holds him under the armpits.

“Aw,” Scott expresses. “He likes the Commander.”

“Hmm, he does,” a voice concurs. The four of them turns to its source and finds Lieutenant Sulu standing nearby with a tray of his meal. There is an evident hesitation before he rounds the table and sits beside Mister Scott. He’s possibly still wary of Doctor McCoy. “How’s he doing?”

“You have eyes, Sulu,” snaps the doctor, stabbing the meat on his plate. “Don’t you still have a damn ship to run?”

The helmsman slowly distances himself a little further from McCoy, despite Scott being between them. “My shift starts in about two hours. Scotty here is in-charge of the bridge.”

“Chekov’s got the conn,” the Chief Engineer says. Unexpectedly, the doctor slaps the back of Scott’s head. “Ow! Wha’s da fer?”

“You can’t-” he yells and then closes his mouth, looking at Jim. In a lower volume, he hisses, “You can’t leave a seventeen-year old kid in-charge!”

“Eighteen,” Scott, Sulu and Nyota correct simultaneously.

“On the contrary,” Spock begins as he balances the jiggling Jim on his lap. “Ensign Chekov is capable of manning the bridge for a short time.”

“Aye, C’mmander,” agrees Scott, rubbing the back of his head.

“I don’t care,” McCoy says, glowering. “It’s bad enough Jim and the hobglobin can’t keep this tin can steady. Go back to the damn bridge!”

“I was lookin’ fer Mister Spock here,” reasons the Chief Engineer, gesturing to Spock. “Cot’s ready, Sir. Dae ye want it in yer quarters or da wee lad’s?”

“Shouldn’t the Captain be with someone with more experience in child caring?” Uhura suddenly interjects. “Like, oh I don’t know, the nurses? Rand? Spock already has a lot of things in his hands. He can’t look after the Captain while he’s the Acting Captain, the First Officer and Chief Science Officer, and deal with the Jugglers.”

“I am fully capable of managing all my duties and responsibilities, Lieutenant,” Spock defends, not knowing why Nyota has expressed such words when she’s completely aware of the reasons he’s caring for the Captain.

She drops her spoon with a loud clink on her plate, stands and stomps away, unfinished with her meal, leaving the four males without much of a departing word.

Scott and Sulu share a knowing look and McCoy snorts.

“You should go after her,” the doctor advises. “Women have a thing for that.”

“Negative, Doctor,” says Spock. “It is important that the Captain finishes his meal.”

“Which he’s not doing much,” Sulu observes. He quickly adds, “From what I’m seeing, Sir.”

Indeed, the helmsman is correct. Spock arranges the Captain horizontally, head gently placed on his folded arm. Jim claps his hands together and kicks his legs with a squeal. The Vulcan then takes the bottle of soymilk on the table, and hovers the teat over Jim’s mouth, to which the boy grabs the bottle, pulling and starts suckling the milk out.

Spock holds the bottle in a forty-seven-degree angle, often tilting it down to avoid choking Jim.

Three minutes pass, someone clears his throat and Spock glances up. Doctor McCoy is grinning while he eats; Lieutenant Sulu is staring at him with his mouth agape; and Mister Scott has his fingers tangled on the table, looking at him, expectantly.

Spock then remembers the Chief Engineer’s earlier inquiry. “Have the cradle delivered to the Captain’s quarters. Notify Yeoman Rand to equip it with appropriate materials.”

“Aye, aye, Sir,” Scott says as he stands and salutes. He pats Sulu’s shoulder before he makes his way out of the mess hall.

Spock returns his attention to the Captain, whose eyes are closed but not asleep since he’s still drinking the milk.

“Close your damn mouth, Sulu,” McCoy suddenly says.

The Lieutenant does as he’s told and inches away from the doctor again; he almost falls from his chair. “Sorry. I’m just getting used to the image in front of me.”

“Better get used to it fast,” says McCoy. “Just so you know, I’m still blaming you for this whole damn shit.”

Spock blocks the men’s quiet arguments as he gazes at the Captain’s small form. He allows a small twitch of his lips. Mister Scott has been accurate. Jim is, undeniably… _vaksurik_.

At this age.  


* * *

_vaksurik_ means "beautiful" (according to VLD).


End file.
